A Very Merry UnBirthday to Dean
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Challenge WOW: Bind Dean gets the worst birthday present he could've ever imagined. 2nd chapter added per request! Please R&R 70TH FIC!
1. Chapter 1

Challenge WOW: Bind

Summary: Dean gets the worst birthday present he could've imagined.

Word Count: 397

**A Very Merry Un-Birthday to Dean**

Dean shut the T.V. off, sighing. Sam had been gone since this morning, and Dean was only a little upset that he hadn't bothered to say happy birthday. But whatever, it didn't matter. For God's sake he was 31 years old, he didn't need to feel bad of his brother forgot his birthday.

Someone knocked on the door. He stood, consciously checking that the .45 in his waistband was still there. He slowly made his way over to the door, taking the gun out, just in case. He carefully opened the door…and saw no one. He frowned, looking around, squinting in the early evening light. Not a soul, anywhere. But he heard noise, frantic breathing and small groans. He looked down.

Hands bound tight, bruised, bloodied, naked, scared. Sammy.

Dean stopped breathing.

"Sammy!" Dean knelt down next to him, lifting his torso into his arms and gently tapping his cheek. "Sammy, Sammy, hey buddy, wake up, c'mon, wake up," he urged.

Brown eyes fluttered open, frightened.

"D-don', pl-please, don-don'-" he begged, writhing weakly.

"Hey, hey, easy," Dean's heart had tied itself in a knot and a lump in his throat made it hard to talk. "It's me, Sammy. It's Dean, it's okay."

"Dean?"

"Shh…"

Dean lifted him carefully and got him into the motel room, laying him on the bed. "C'mere, buddy."

He undid the bindings on his wrists, which were wrapped tight in front of his chest.

"Hu-hur's, D-Dean," Sam whimpered.

"Shh…I know, I know. I'm gonna make it better. Who did this to you?" He asked quietly. Sam turned his face away, crying. "Okay, okay, shh, it's alright." Sam cringed, shutting his eyes, tears squeezing out and whimpering.

"Dean…it hur's. He-help me, pl-please!" He begged. Dean swallowed. It was very hard not to let the tears in his eyes fall.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's alright. What hurts, huh? Tell me what hurts, buddy," he said gently.

"M-my back," he breathed. Dean carefully lifted Sam's shoulder, wincing when his baby brother whimpered.

He rolled Sam onto his stomach. Sam looked up at him, his lips trembling, body shaking.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean assured, brushing his hair out of his face, trying to smile. It faded quickly when he looked at his little brother's back.

"No," he breathed. They were welts from a whip, bleeding, deep.

_Happy Birthday Dean_

_-Z_

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	2. Chapter 2

**A Very Merry Un-Birthday to Dean**

Dean stared at the words that had been sliced into his brother's back for another beat. "Oh, god, Sammy," he whispered, sitting down next to him. Sam sniffed, tears clinging to his lashes and falling down his cheeks.

Dean brushed his bangs off of his forehead, guilt flooding him in a wave.

"Alright, I'm gonna clean you up, Sammy, okay? I'm gonna make it stop hurting," he said gently. He couldn't be angry right now. He couldn't let the hate bubbling in his stomach show in his voice or his face.

"I'll be right back," Dean said, standing and heading toward the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He grabbed the kit very quickly and darted back into the room, taking out the peroxide and a rag. He washed the blood off of his back before applying the peroxide.

"Uhhnn…" Sam whimpered, hiding his face in the pillow. "D-Dean, make it st-stop, pl-please. Please…"

"Shh," he soothed, hating that he was hurting Sam more. "Just a little longer, okay?"

Sam cried, both in fear and pain. But he wouldn't be hurt again. Not with Dean here. Dean would protect him. He wouldn't let Zachariah hurt him again.

He didn't really know what had happened all he knew was he woke up with his hands bound above his head.

Zachariah had said that he was doing this because of Dean. He needed to be taught a lesson for not saying yes.

And Sam needed to be punished.

"Why?" Sam asked. "What did I do?"

"Well, Sammy, where do I start? How about you fornicating with a demon?" Sam looked away. "Or drinking demon blood, damning yourself even more than you already were? Oh, and then there's that whole starting the apocalypse thing. I think that's enough to warrant punishment," he said, grinning. Sam kept his jaw set, ready to fight as much as needed.

"Oh, don't look so tough. You won't be soon." Zachariah smirked.

Sam screamed. Burning agony tore through his whole body, blinding him and knocking his legs out form under him, leaving his wrists to strain against the metal rings that bound them.

"DEEEEEE-EEEEAAAAAN!" He shrieked, tears in his eyes, begging, pleading, anything.

It didn't stop, not for a very long time. He couldn't see, or hear, or move. He sobbed hard, screaming and wondering if it would ever end. So far it hadn't. He prayed so hard for an end, just one shred of mercy. One second without pain.

And then it stopped. He took in ragged gasps for air, crying. It didn't stop there.

Zachariah cut off his clothes with a knife, piece by piece, humiliating him.

"Stop, stop…please. Please, don't, pl-please -" The angel showed no mercy. In fact he laughed at his pleas.

He beat Sam some more, wearing him down, making him scared enough to flinch away whimpering and pleading.

When he undid the shackles Sam fell hard on his knees, crying out. Zachariah grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him toward a concrete slab about three feet off the ground. He slammed Sam into it, knocking the wind out of him. He coughed hard, unable to focus while the angel bound his wrists to the slab.

"No," he jerked weakly at the ropes. "No, please…let go." Zachariah smiled.

"While I think your lesson was well learned, Dean's message still needs to be in place."

Sam heard a crack behind him, like a warning shot.

The whip tore into his back over and over. He could tell that there was some kind of pattern to it, but he couldn't tell what it was.

He cried and screamed, whimpering and begging.

When it stopped he collapsed against the cool slab, wanting more than anything to see Dean again.

Zachariah untied him and threw him to the ground before binding his hands once more.

"No," he writhed feebly. Zachariah overpowered him easily, chuckling at his pathetic effort.

"Oh, yes, Dean will get my message very clearly," he chortled.

His fingers knotted in Sam's hair yet again, hauling him up viciously. He blinked and he was outside, getting dropped onto hard concrete.

"Tell Dean I said hi, Sammy," Zachariah grinned. With a flutter he was gone.

Sam shut his eyes, huddling together for warmth.

"Dean…" he breathed, begging for his big brother to save him. To save him from the cold and the agony that wracked his body.

He barely heard the door open in front of him. He didn't have the strength to open his eyes or make any sound.

"Sammy!" Warm hands picked him up. "Sammy, Sammy, hey buddy, wake up, c'mon, wake up."

His eyes opened, body telling him to try and get away.

"D-don', pl-please, don-don'-"

"Hey, hey easy. It's me, Sammy. It's Dean, it's okay."

"Dean?" His heart lifted, hope making it swell. Dean was here. Dean was here! Dean saved him. Dean would make it better.

"Shh…"

Tbc…

--Thank you, please review--


	3. Chapter 3

**A Very Merry Un-Birthday to Dean**

"D-don't let him hurt m-me. Pl-please, D-Dean, please…"

"Shh…He's not gonna get you, buddy, I promise. Shhh, it's okay, Sammy. Hush, shh…" Dean gently rocked Sam back and forth. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Dean?"

Sam jumped at the new voice, burying his face in Dean's shoulder, hiding.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said, looking up at Castiel. "It's Cas, it's alright."

"What happened?" The angel asked, looking at Sam's back and wincing. Dean's lip twitched as hatred filled his eyes that he kept hidden from Sam.

"Zachariah," he growled. Sam started crying again. Almost instantly, the fire in Dean's eyes was replaced by sadness, guilt, and a need to protect his brother. "Shh…"

He calmed Sam down, assuring him that no one was going to hurt him and that he was safe. Sam fell asleep, tears on his face. Dean gently lied him down and brushed them off. He shut his eyes for a second, swallowing, before he licked his lips and ran his hand over his face.

"I'm gonna kill him," he said quietly. "I swear to God, Cas, I will. I'm gonna find him and I'm…I'm gonna-"

"What? What is it that you can do to Zachariah, Dean?" Castiel asked, brow creased. "There is nothing you can do to an angel of his power." Dean stood, angry.

"So I'm gonna let that son of a bitch get away with this? I'm just gonna sit back and let it slide? No way in Hell I'm letting-"

"Dean, think for a moment. What do you think Zachariah was trying to do when he did this? He wants you to come find him for revenge. Do you know what he will do to you? His mission is to get you to say yes. Dean, he can make Hell look like the Garden of Eden," Dean cocked his brow at the reference. "He will do whatever is takes to get you to say yes to Michael. You cannot confront him."

Dean shut his eyes, pain etched in his face. He looked back at his battered brother. The pain deepened.

"Okay," he breathed, "I won't do anything." The angel put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I know it is not in your nature to do such things, Dean. But please, doing this for your brother is not cowardice."

"I know," he said, "I just…It's my fault this happened to him."

"Would Sam have rather it be you instead of him? I don't think he would feel that way," Castiel said pointedly. Dean sat back down next to his little brother.

"It doesn't make the guilt hurt less, Cas," he whispered almost inaudibly. The angel nodded and turned to leave.

"Zachariah will receive what he deserves one day, Dean," he said. "Oh, and Happy Birthday." There was a quiet flutter, signaling the angel was gone.

Dean looked at Sam, a tear falling down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy."

* * *

Sam peeled his eyes opened at about eleven that night. Dean was still awake, his eyes clouded, coffee in his hand.

"Dean," Sam rasped. Dean sat up, suddenly alert.

"Sammy," he was searching his face for any sign of discomfort. He pushed a glass of water to his lips. "Are you alright?" Sam nodded slowly.

"Hurts still…I'll be okay," he breathed. He started to push himself up on his elbows, wincing deeply.

"Hey, hey," Dean protested, trying to push him back down, "take it easy, Sammy." Sam shook his head, still cringing, and reached under his pillow. He collapsed back on it when he retrieved what he'd been looking for. He opened his hand. A small package wrapped in newspaper stared back at Dean. He took it when Sam offered it to him, unwrapping it.

He smiled in surprise. His necklace.

"It's not the real thing," Sam said hoarsely. "I got it on a website dedicated to the books."

"Thanks, Sammy," he grinned, hugging him.

"Happy Birthday, Dean."

**END**

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